


don’t want you to get it on (with nobody else but me).

by frostfall



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Domestic Avengers, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Humor, Jealous Steve Rogers, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Pining Steve Rogers, Post-Avengers (2012), The Pocky Game, Tony Stark Does What He Wants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 05:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21387136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostfall/pseuds/frostfall
Summary: There are a lot of things that Steve doesn’t get about the future. But it’s fine. He will, eventually. He has time.But one thing he knows is that he’ll never, ever be able to wrap his head around is the fanfare surrounding Pocky.(Or Steve’s jealous of biscuit sticks.)
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 24
Kudos: 368





	don’t want you to get it on (with nobody else but me).

**Author's Note:**

> Did I write this just because of Pocky Day? You're absolutely right. 
> 
> Title comes from 'Genghis Khan' by Miike Snow.

There are a lot of things that Steve doesn’t get about the future.

Not that he means it in a bad way, not at all. Equal rights have come so far, (Still needs work, but hey, progress is still progress.) food doesn’t taste like nothing anymore, and film reels are now movies, bigger and grander than ever before.

And don’t get him started on the Internet. God, the Internet. That’s probably the best thing about the future. Information at his fingertips with just a couple of clicks.

It’s just that it’s quite an adjustment. He doesn’t understand modern language these days (Why can’t anybody just spell things out properly instead of making things acronyms?), current music is an acquired taste (though he won’t lie, that ‘Call Me Maybe’ song is pretty catchy) and not to mention the fact that the Brooklyn Dodgers are now the Los Angeles Dodgers (which sucks so much but no, Tony, you can’t buy them back. Please don’t do it.). But it’s fine. He will, eventually. He has time.

But one thing he knows is that he’ll never, ever be able to wrap his head around the fanfare surrounding Pocky.

* * *

It all starts with a lunch date with Tony Stark.

Not that they’re dating in the first place. When the Avengers had all moved in together, Tony had declared himself the one to introduce Steve to the future – queuing movies and TV shows during their free time, introducing to countless of music albums, and dragging Steve along in the name of introducing him to different cuisines.

So arguably, yes, they do go on lunch dates. _Platonic_ lunch dates, to be exact, because there aren't any underlying motives or feelings involved whatsoever.

As much as Steve enjoys spending time with Tony in any kind of way, he definitely looks forward to their platonic lunch dates the most. Tony always has a different place in mind each time and he always has something to say about the foods they try. It’s astounding how much a person would know about something as mundane as pancakes.

But then again, Tony isn’t called a genius for nothing. Sure, Steve doesn’t have an inkling about engineering or modern science but Tony’s eager to listen and explain. He’s not as condescending Howard was, another stark difference between the two that has Steve secretly cursing over his past misjudgements.

Which is why he really likes their lunch dates. And definitely not because he gets to spend time with Tony alone with a familiar face or AI around. Not at all.

Today, Tony takes him to Little Tokyo for sushi that leaves Steve in both awe and disgust. He doubts he’ll ever warm up to raw salmon but he could definitely see himself falling deeper in love with _gyōza_.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Tony admits as they walk down an aisle in a supermarket. Another reason why Steve likes their platonic lunch dates, the spontaneous exploring they get to do. Tony always has some place in mind, be it a museum, a park, or a bookstore. “Not everybody likes eating raw stuff and you know, the dangers of salmonella and— Oh, yay!”

An involuntary smile spreads across Steve’s lips at the outburst. It’s adorable and Tony’s smile is downright adorable as Tony spins around to face him, a small box in hand.

“Thank god they have these. I’ve been craving for them ever since we decided on sushi today. Not that the Thai ones are bad. They still taste amazing but my god, the Japanese versions are far—”

“Tony,” Steve cuts in, amused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Tony’s lips twist into a smirk. “Oh, Rogers. If you thought the future was amazing already, wait 'til you try this. This,” he strokes the box as if it’s made out of the purest gems, “is life-changing.”

And thus begins the start of Steve’s troubles.

* * *

It’s not that Steve hates Pocky. In fact, he likes them a whole lot.

Growing up, all everybody did was boil and underseasoned everything they could get their hands on, which made meal times a bland affair. Which in turn, made desserts unremarkably bland as well. It didn’t help that Steve grew up poor either.

Now, everything tastes richer, more flavourful. It’s a good thing Steve has the serum because at the rate he consumes food, his body wouldn’t be thanking him.

With Pocky, it’s no different. They’re sweet and crunchy and light and make nice snacks. They’re not life-changing by any stretch of the means (and no, Tony, he’s not delusional. People can like different things.) and he can’t figure out why everybody goes crazy over them (and no, it’s not just him. He’s positive there are people that feel the same way.) But like most things, it’s a preference. Everybody can like different things. 

So no, Steve doesn’t actually have a problem with Pocky itself. But if anybody’s in Steve’s shoes, they would also develop an irrational annoyance to a biscuit.

Then again, nobody could be as dumb as Steve Rogers.

* * *

It happens during Movie Night, a tradition that Clint had established a couple of weeks into being housemates. Every Thursday night, they’d gather for dinner and in a rotating-fashion, one of them would pick a movie for everybody to watch.

Tonight it’s Bruce’s turn and he goes for _Toy Story_, much to Clint’s delight and Tony’s groans of disappointment. 

“Don’t get me wrong. _Toy Story_’s a classic,” Tony says as he drops down next to Steve, draping an arm on the couch like he always does and Steve's not thinking of having it around him instead. Definitely not. “But I’m in the mood to bash a B-movie.” 

As much as Steve enjoys a good movie, his favourite Movie Nights are the ones when somebody recommends a terrible one. Tony always has something to say, usually either ranting about obvious plot holes or cringing to corny dialogue.

“I don’t know about you,” Bruce says as the title credits begin to roll, “but I’m in the mood for some good Pixar movies.”

“But bashing movies with cheap ass graphics and shitty acting are more— Hey!”

An involuntary laugh spills out of Steve's lips as Tony shoots a glare at Natasha’s smirk. 

“How dare you use Pocky as ammunition," Tony says scandalised as he picks it off his lap. “These things are sacred and should be treated as—” 

Steve elbows him in the ribs. "Tony." 

Tony flashes him a look of betrayal as he turns his attention to the screen. 

Despite finding the idea of sentient toys bizarre, Steve finds himself enjoying it. It’s fun and hilarious and sure Mr Potato Head is an asshole but it doesn’t detract from the hilarious shenanigans the toys get into. As Steve watches Woody and Buzz argue under a tank truck, he couldn’t help but compare it to the way Tony and him would argue.

Steve turns to his left, about to make a comment about it, when his heart almost stops.

Tony has his eyes glued to the screen, a Pocky stick between his lips. It’s not the first time Steve has seen Tony eating Pocky. But there’s something different about this moment, the light of the TV screen bathing Tony in a cool glow, his warm eyes enraptured, his plump lips pursed as he gnaws at the biscuit, and oh god, is that his tongue—?

A jab to the side shakes Steve’s thoughts. He whips his head to his other side, meeting Natasha’s smug grin.

“Admiring the view?” she asks coolly, her lips quirk to the side.

Steve's cheeks begin to burn. “Eyes to the front, Romanoff.”

“_You_ keep your eyes to the front.”

Steve resolutely does so, choosing to ignore her burning stare for the rest of the night. On the bright side, nobody seems to notice their exchange. And if Tony notices how Steve avoids his line of sight throughout the rest of the night, he doesn’t bring it up.

* * *

At first, Steve chalks it up to being caught in the moment. It isn't the first time Steve looked and thought. It's hard not to. Tony's arguably, no definitely one of the most attractive people Steve has ever laid his eyes on. He just oozes of seduction. 

But then he sees a Pocky stick wedged between Tony's lips and walks into a wall. Several days later, he trips over his feet. The day after, he spills hot coffee over his pristine white T-shirt. 

He's a mess all because Tony's eating a stupid Pocky stick in front of his face. It's stupid and dumb and it's never happened before. Even when Tony's dressed to impress, Steve has always managed to rein himself back. 

But here is Tony slinking into the communal kitchen with heavy eyebags and a bad case of bed hair and Steve’s lips are tingling and his body feels like it’s on fire. All because Tony's eating Pocky. 

* * *

Ever since Loki decided to grace Earth with his presence, other villains seem eager to try their hand at causing chaos, ranging from individuals with a thirst for world domination (MODOK and Attuma), dangerous albeit incompetent groups (the Wrecking Crew and AIM), and nameless monsters popping out of thin air.

“You know,” Clint says cheerfully as they watch SHIELD haul away the Monster of the Week. How Fury managed to get his hands on a container cell large enough for it, Steve will never know, “if you told me that we’d be battling a forty feet octopus with an obsession with Pocky, I would’ve laughed my ass off.”

Thor brightens at that, swinging Mjolnir out of excitement. “I wasn’t aware you have a donkey, Barton! I would very much like to meet your pet donkey. However, I do not understand how you could laugh your donkey off anything. Is this an obscure Midgardian culture I wasn’t aware of?”

Steve couldn’t help but snicker at Clint spluttering. From the corners of his eyes, he watches Bruce shake his head and Natasha roll her eyes fondly.

“I don’t own a donkey!”

Thor frowns, his confusion so earnest that Steve couldn’t help but wonder if he’s just messing around. “But you said—”

“It’s a figure of—”

“So!” Tony interrupts, sauntering over with his faceplate up. “I have great news.”

“Something tells me that I’m not going to like this,” Bruce mutters under his breath, fiddling at the hem of his T-shirt.

“Trust me, you will. Because _we_," Tony spreads his hands out, "are going to be getting a year’s supply of free Pocky.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Why?” Steve asks, sceptical at the same time Clint asks, “How? The warehouse’s fucked.”

Tony shrugs his shoulders. “Gratitude, I guess. I mean, we did stop a forty foot octopus from getting its grubby tentacles all over their stock. Which still ended up inedible because, you know, slimy monster, but hey, I’m fully funding the reconstruction of the place. Hence, gratitude. And to answer your question, Legolas, they’ll be sending some from Japan itself. Thank god because the Japanese versions are to _die_ for.”

Steve frowns. “Tony, we can’t just accept—”

“Trust me. I tried turning them down. Multiple times. They were very insistent about it. Even got the CEO of Ezaki Glico on the line.” Tony pauses. “That’s the company that manufactures Pocky if you guys were wondering.”

“Well, I don’t know ‘bout you guys,” Clint says, grinning as he twirls an arrow between his fingers, “but I’m not turning down free food. Especially since it’s Pocky. Right, Nat?”

Natasha shakes her head, a sliver of a smile plastered on. “I’m not getting involved. This is none of my business.”

“This is _Avengers’_ business, Nat, which makes it— Hey, wait up!”

Tony grins as he drapes an arm around Thor’s shoulder. “You’ll love Pocky. You might even like them more than PopTarts.”

Thor's frown deepens as they follow after Clint and Natasha. “I doubt that anything would be better than PopTarts. But we shall see.”

Steve spins around helplessly at Bruce. All he gets is a sympathetic smile and a clap on the shoulder before he trots after them.

Steve just sighs. 

* * *

The shipment comes in several days later to much fanfare (Tony, Thor, Clint), mild amusement (Bruce and Natasha), and total annoyance (Steve).

All fifty boxes of them to be exact.

Thor grins as he makes a beeline for them. “Finally! I am eager to try the caramel! Jane told me they taste heavenly!”

“Hey! I’m calling dibs!” Clint calls, dashing forward, followed by Tony and Bruce.

For a long moment, Steve remains still, watching the whole thing unfold. It’s kind of surreal, watching several grown men acting like kids in a candy store. Especially since it’s over Pocky, of all things.

Steve almost face-palms right there and then. He’s stupid. So, so stupid. They’re just biscuit sticks coated in chocolate or strawberry or some other flavour. They’re just biscuit sticks which Tony seems to be fond of and Steve is not, definitely not annoyed or j—

“You okay, Cap?”

Steve blinks, snapping out of his thoughts. Tony’s fixing him with a concerned expression, his pink lips parted, a green Pocky halfway in and his tongue peeking between—

“I’m fine,” Steve lies, ignoring the flush creeping up his neck. “Just toss me what you’re having.”

And if he ends up crushing it in his fist, well, he can always chalk it up to the serum.

* * *

If Steve thought the past couple of weeks was bad, this is much, much worse.

Since they have a year’s supply (Steve’s absolutely positive they’re only last a month, maybe three, tops), he sees them everywhere. Clint munching on a banana chocolate stick after a workout, Natasha nibbling on an almond-flavoured one as she lies on the couch reading a book, Bruce opening his second packet of green tea ones after another failed experiment, Tony eating a strawberry one while he reads the news, Tony, devouring a coffee-flavoured one in between Mario Kart races, Tony who won't stop licking the thing like it's a popsicle stick or—

And he’s not going to finish that sentence because it’s just a stupid, stupid thought and thinking that a Pocky stick could be _that_ is beyond stupid. 

Besides, Steve doesn’t like him like that. Tony’s just a friend. Nothing more.

* * *

It takes all of Steve to not bash his head against a wall at the sight. He’s already walked into several walls this past week. He’d rather not cause any more trauma to his head, so he blurts out a, “Seriously?”, instead.

Tony whips his head upwards. “What?”

Steve sighs heavily, watching Tony swallow and yeah, that’s definitely sweat glistening on the nape of his neck and wonderful, there’s also a Pocky stick clamped between his teeth. Just fucking wonderful. And since there’s a Pocky stick in his mouth, Steve can’t stop staring.

He doesn’t know why. He’s seen his friends eat them all the time. Hell, he’s passed by his reflection with a stick in his mouth but never had he wanted to pause, look, ache to yank the stick away and— and—

“JARVIS?” Steve asks, mentally whiling away the rush of arousal coursing through him. “When was the last time Tony had a proper meal?”

“Thirty-four hours ago.”

Tony polishes the last of his Pocky stick. “JARVIS! How—?”

“And how much Pocky has Tony been consuming?”

“Sir has eaten three boxes of chocolate, two strawberries, and four cookies and cream in the last sixteen hours.”

“Traitor!” Tony exclaims, pulling out another stick from his packet to point it at the ceiling. “This is high treason! I can’t believe you’d—”

Before he could realize what he’s doing, Steve is already by Tony’s side, snatching the offending stick from Tony’s grasp. A sharp thrill of satisfaction washes over him. Steve almost groans out loud at its stupid, primitive self.

Instead, he shakes his head, laying his other hand on Tony’s shoulder and tries not ignore the waft of oil, coffee, and a hint of peppermint, a combination that shouldn’t smell as good as it does together, filing his nostrils. “Okay, let’s go. It’s lunch time.”

“Steve—”

“You can’t just run on caffeine and sugar, Tony. You need proper food and—”

“Excuse you,” Tony counters, offended. “I’ll have you know that Pocky has the right amount of nutrients to keep me going.”

“You did read the label, right?” Steve asks innocently before darting away to avoid Tony’s playful swat.

Fortunately, Tony doesn’t put up much of a fight, quickly relenting after Steve plays up the puppy dog eyes routine that his friends have told him seem to work effortlessly. They end up in a cosy hole-in-the-wall several blocks away with the best pesto pasta Steve has ever tasted. Instead of Pocky, they have cannoli that taste miles better than manufactured biscuit sticks for dessert.

Steve couldn’t help but feel the swell of triumph that courses through him.

_Ha. Take that, Pocky._

* * *

Tony’s in the middle of his third box of Pocky. His legs are tucked underneath him and his hair’s a mess and he looks downright beautiful and Steve just wants to rip the stupid box from his grasp.

On-screen, Han and Leia kiss. For a moment, Steve lets himself wonder, wonder what it’ll be like to be kissed like that. Kiss like that. He wonders if Tony would taste of chocolate and sugar and oh.

_Oh_.

* * *

Okay, so maybe he’s wrong. He might like Tony more than a friend, more than he should.

But how could anybody not? Tony’s beautiful and brilliant and brave and everything Steve loves in a person. Even if Steve is way out of Tony’s league because Tony’s rich and beautiful and could have anybody he wants and Steve’s just a poor dumb kid from Brooklyn.

God, now that he managed to comprehend his feelings, it all makes sense now, his irrational irritation towards a stupid brand of biscuit sticks. Because Steve doesn’t want a biscuit stick touching Tony’s lips, doesn’t want Tony’s tongue swirling around a biscuit stick and—

And again, he’s not finishing that because it’s stupid. It’s stupid and he’s being stupid and irrational and there’s no way Tony would like him back. It’s already bad enough that Tony’s out of his league. But if he found out that Steve was sort of, maybe, jealous of a biscuit stick, he’d just laugh at his face because Steve Rogers is—

“—an idiot,” Steve declares to the air. “I’m an idiot.”

“Tell me something I didn’t know,” Natasha says as she passes him by.

“Romanoff is right,” Thor adds cheerfully, glued to her side. “And as Barton once said, you are ‘ass-deep in pining’, which is a sentiment I wholeheartedly agree with.”

Steve groans, buries his face in his hands, and wonders how this is his life.

* * *

He’s on his third punching bag of the day (He makes a mental note to Tony that the bags need more work) when he decides enough is enough.

No more pining. No more jealousy. He’s going to tell Tony how he can’t get him out of his head and ask him out on a date. And if Tony doesn’t reciprocate, Steve will just have to deal with it. He’s handled rejection before. He can do it again.

So after dressing in the cleanest shirt and jeans he could find and inquiring on Tony’s location, he marches into the common room, his chest ready to burst from nerves but also remnants of hope and—

And Tony and Thor are kissing.

Tony and Thor are kissing on the couch in the common room where anybody and everybody can stumble upon them.

And just like that, Steve wants the floor to swallow him whole.

Of course. It makes so much sense. Tony and Thor make the perfect couple. They’re both gorgeous and smart (the stereotype that Thor is a ‘dumb jock’ needs to be thrown out and trampled over because that cannot be further from the truth) and all-so perfect. Unlike Steve and Tony who still get into arguments, Tony and Thor get along like a house on fire and it just makes sense. Thor and Jane had broken up a month ago so it just makes fucking— 

“Steve?”

Tony and Thor have broken apart, both of them now watching him with curious gazes.

“You okay?” Tony continues, his head tilted to the side and his eyebrows knitted together.

It’s a miracle that Steve could force out a curt, “I’m fine,” since all he wants to do is curl up and die and it’s just not fair that Tony’s lips are red from—

“You don’t look fine.”

“No, I—” Steve exhales. “Sorry. I was just surprised. I didn’t— I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You were not interrupting, Captain!” Thor declares gleefully and never has Steve ever wanted to punch a friend so much until now. 

Everybody in the Avengers (and maybe Fury because Fury is all-knowing and a sneaky son of a bitch) except Tony (for obvious reasons) are well-aware of Steve’s feelings for Tony. Hell, they were the ones that kept teasing him about his complicated feelings with Pocky. So why would—?

“—were just playing the Pocky game.”

Steve blinks, the gears in his mind grinding to a halt. “Pocky game?”

Tony shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s just a silly party game. Two people bite on one end of a Pocky stick and try to reach the middle, which would result in some kissing if you do end up reaching the middle, which you know, can be gross but hey! It’s fun. Then whoever breaks the stick or forfeits is the loser.”

Oh. It’s a game. Thor and Tony were just playing a party game. Thor and Tony aren’t… Aren’t…

Then again, if Steve were in their shoes, he wouldn’t be playing with just about anybody. He’d be playing with somebody he likes, with warm brown eyes and a bright smile that could light up the darkest of nights. And if Tony rather have somebody who’s a demigod and long luscious curls, who was he to argue with that?

“Oh,” Steve says, feeling numb. “Well, carry on.”

And with head held high, he turns on his heel and flees.

He knows the way he left is suspicious. And judging by how news and gossip get around, everybody else is bound to find out soon. They’re going to find out about how the pathetic kid from Brooklyn had his heart broken by a man who is out of his league.

And that’s not counting the cold, hard fact that Tony will corner him soon because he’s stubborn and he’d demand answers and then Steve would have to tell him and oh god—

“Hey JARVIS?” Steve asks as he steps through the elevator doors and into the confines of his living space.

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“I was wondering, does everybody have Blackout Mode?”

“No,” JARVIS replies. “Only Sir’s workshop does.”

“Oh. But if anybody’s looking for me, could you turn them away? Unless if it’s an emergency, of course. I just don’t feel like talking to anybody at the moment.”

“Of course, Captain,” the AI says. There’s something in his tone that sounds a little exasperated but it could’ve been his imagination. 

* * *

It’s times like these that Steve’s thankful he has his own kitchen. If he isn’t in the mood for any form of interaction, he could just coop himself up and not worry about starving.

Which is exactly what he does for the next couple of days. He resolutely ignores the piling text messages on his phone (Yes, he’s an idiot. No need to remind him that, Nat.) and turns away everybody’s attempts at visiting him.

Surprisingly, self-exile isn’t as boring or lonely as he thought it would’ve been. Sure he can’t go on his morning runs (the likelihood of bumping into somebody in the elevator is high), his art keeps him busy. And if he finds himself unconsciously shading a warm coffee in a familiar set of eyes, he has his books and pints of butter pecan ice-cream to keep him company.

But since he’s Steve Rogers, nothing goes to plan.

As soon as Steve reaches for his bedroom door, he could hear somebody else’s breathing behind it.

“JARVIS,” he begins quietly.

“I apologize, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS says, sounding half-hearted. 

“Is it Tony?”

JARVIS’ silence speaks volumes.

Steve sighs heavily. It was bound to happen. He might as well get it over and done with, for Tony to tell him that, no, he doesn’t return Steve’s feelings and yes, they can remain friends and—

“Okay, let’s get one thing straight here,” Tony says as Steve opens the door, “I’m not dating Thor.”

Steve freezes, his fingers tightening around the door handle. If Tony hadn’t reinforced the whole floor to withstand super strength, it probably would’ve been crushed under his grip because, _what_?

“What?”

Tony huffs. “Look, I like Thor. I think he’s amazing and hot as fuck but I don’t want to fuck him. Finding somebody fuckable and wanting to fuck them aren’t mutually exclusive, Steven.”

Steve blinks, his mind reeling. “Why’re you—?”

“Please, Steve. You suck at playing it cool. You have the worst tells. Did you know your ears turn red when you lie?”

His fingers instinctively reach for his ear lobe. “No, I—”

“Exactly!” Tony exclaims as he pushes his half-eaten Pocky stick between his teeth and god, Steve can’t tear his eyes away because Tony’s not dating Thor and Tony’s lips look utterly kissable and all Steve wants to do is yank stupid Pocky stick out of the way and taste—

“—of all, you’re not interested in me like that and second, it’s none of your—”

And before he could comprehend it, they’re kissing.

Or at least Steve’s doing the kissing because Tony tastes of biscuit and strawberries but also of coffee and something distinct, something comforting and warm and—

Tony breaks the kiss first. “Uh, well.” He pauses to clear his throat, his cheeks pink. But there’s something behind his eyes, something that looks like a glimmer of hope and Steve’s heart soars. “Well, you could’ve asked me if you wanted a taste. I would’ve offered—” 

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle. “For a genius, you can be so stupid,” which is a pretty ironic thing to say but Tony’s here. And Tony kissed him back so _maybe_.

He wraps an arm around Tony’s waist to pull him closer and god, he's warm. He's so warm. “Besides, it tastes better this way.”

Tony’s eyes darken before he surges forward, closing the distance between them again.

This time, the kiss is frantic and passionate and Steve can’t keep his hands still. He needs to feel. Touch. Taste. Consume.

Somehow in the middle of their lip lock, Steve manages to steer them to his bed, pinning Tony under his body. And it’s hot and Steve needs him and Steve can’t believe this is happening. He can’t believe—

“God,” he murmurs between kisses, “you don’t know how long I wanted—”

“Me too.”

“—to do that. I’ve been wanting to—”

“Mm hmm, keep talking.” 

“—to rip that stupid stick from your—” 

Tony pulls away, his head falling onto the pillow under him. “Wait. Are you telling me that you were jealous of a Pocky stick?”

Heat blooms across Steve’s cheeks.

Tony’s smirk widens. “Oh my god! Captain America was jealous of a freaking Pocky stick! I can’t believe—”

* * *

“—you were doing that on purpose!”

“Hey, I needed to know whether it was a one-time thing,” Tony says defensively. “And then you couldn’t stop looking but I wasn’t sure so I kept doing it. Helps that Pocky are amazing because if they were like, Bounty, or something, I would’ve like died. There’s no way I could’ve eaten a Bounty, much less a hundred.”

“And the Pocky game?”

“That wasn’t on purpose. Thor asked me about it. So I thought I’d do a live demonstration. And he was game. I was game. It was just for fun, you know? No feelings involved whatsoever so don’t worry your pretty little mind about it.”

Steve huffs, his gaze glued to the ceiling. “You know, I almost punched Thor right there and then. You could’ve said something.”

“Well, how was I to know? You didn’t tell me you were interested and didn’t want me kissing other blue-eyed hunky blonds.”

“You thought I was interested!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t have _anything_ concrete.” Tony smirks as he rolls onto his side, sated and sweaty. “Besides, it got us here, didn’t it? Maybe I should play another round of—”

“Not on my watch,” Steve growls before pulling him into another bruising kiss.

* * *

“Coffee?” Steve offers the next morning as Tony pads into the kitchen, dressed in one of Steve’s oversized T-shirts.

Somewhere behind him, somebody wolf-whistles.

“It’s about damn time, you do— Ow!”

“Sure,” Tony says as he pops a Pocky stick between his teeth. His lips twist into a devious smirk. It’s strawberry, Steve’s favourite. “Pocky?”

Steve grins, leaning forward. “Don’t mind if I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can reblog this on Tumblr [here](https://kapteniron-archive.tumblr.com/post/188959945256/dont-want-you-to-get-it-on-with-nobody-else-but).
> 
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